Once Upon a Time
by Lyra Belacqua the Silvertongue
Summary: Written for Caesar's Palace challenge of December. Prompt: "If you're still breathing, you're the lucky ones; 'cause most of us are heaving through corrupted lungs" from Youth by Daughter. 'Clove and Glimmer: one and the same. Little girls missing reading stories and ending their own.'


"If you're still breathing, you're the lucky ones;

'cause most of us are heaving through corrupted lungs"

from Youth by Daughter

Once Upon a Time

There was a little girl

at the age where- you know- back then stonedust of Two is something to trace patterns in

and make little piles and cities with

and nursery tales were sweet

and she could pretend the tramp-tramp-tramp of the peacekeepers

was the clip-clop of the billy goats gruff

"Who's that clip-clopping over my bridge!" the troll roared

But back then

there weren't any trolls

and the bridge of her_then_ to her_now_ was so long

she didn't even have to think about it.

...

Then she grew

They made her a

bloody-killer vicious-brute

Career

(the word drips off your tongue like poison)

Career

(she'd been so little)

Career

(never going back)

But she was still young

you know- back then animal backpacks were _the rage_

and shiny Victor figurines were to die for

and she was still the littlest billy goat gruff

the troll wasn't there

and the bridge was still long.

...

Then she got older

older in body

older in mind

It's something she learned- animal backpacks are ludicrous

all you need is _powerpowerpower_

and there isn't a figurine or shiny toy in sight.

They showed her how to

_killkillkill_

and said she would be perfect for the Games

and the troll under her long bridge arrived.

"You'll go far sweetie," he smiled, words dripping off his tongue

like _poison honey_

The instructor.

The Victor.

The killer.

The _troll_.

And the bridge shrank

But she was still the littlest billy goat gruff

although barely.

...

"You'll go far sweetie," the troll said,

and she did

if _killkillkill_ is how to go far.

She grew- into the medium billy goat gruff.

Because the littlest one said "Don't eat me, troll, the medium goat is better"

and _abandoned_ her

and left the medium one to face the troll

and be eaten up- well,

all traces of the littlest one (all the goodness and sweetness of true honey).

The instructor-Victor-killer-_troll_ ate her up

And there wasn't much left

because she was

a Career (poison)

a fighter (monster)

someone who would be great for the Games (_killer_)

and though she had fallen in love (with a great big goat)

the troll took control

and the bridge was nearing its end.

...

"I volunteer!"

She wanted to kill

(pain over stonedust, little goat)

She had no more will

(knives over backpacks, medium goat)

And the troll had his fill

(Games over love, big goat)

And she couldn't even stop after her love came in with her.

And she was the biggest goat now

who should have kicked the troll off the bridge (but she couldn't)

And she went over the bridge

To the 'berries'

(only knives and suffering, big goat)

She was in the Games.

...

"Stay with me!"

She couldn't. Even big goats can't survive forever.

"Please!"

He chose her, after everything, but it was too late (of course, dear, love never ends well).

"Don't die!"

Everything she cared about: Water under the bridge.

No more stonedust

Or backpacks

Or pretty clothes

Or even love

Only poison honey

Corruption from the troll

(can't breathe, poison honey everywhere)

And cold, hard fact.

Too late for anything.

And the little girl who liked nursery tales was gone.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, Clove."

* * *

Once Upon a Time

There was a little girl

at the age where- you know- back then the diamond mines of One were pretty

instead of caving-in oppressive-heat death-traps

and she could pretend lying still and silent in that darkness

was being Snow White instead of lost and afraid

and fairy tales were lovely

"I want to be the fairest in the land!" the queen shouted

"Here's a (poison) apple, dear."

But there was no Queen back then

There wasn't any (poison) apple

And she didn't need to be (and wasn't) the fairest in the land.

...

Then she grew

They didn't show her knives, it was

_witchery witchery witchcraft_

Because if she could be the fairest in the land

She could work _witchery_ on anyone

And they started to make her clothes tighter

which _hurt_

But she didn't tell anyone

because Capitol clothes are to die for at that age

and to be the fairest in the land you needed to also be brave

and besides

the Queen wasn't there yet with her wicked (poison) apple

and she wasn't the fairest in the land yet (but close).

...

Then she got older

_far_ older in body (almost fairest in the land)

but still young in mind "You mean I can't read fairy tales any more?"

"No, fair one.

No fairy tales, you can't play Snow White, and_ all_ you may wear is Capitol clothes,"

the Queen said.

The _jealousQueen_

_fairQueen_

_trainerQueen_

_CapitolQueen_

And her clothes got still tighter

which _hurthurt_

But she needed to work her _witchery witchery_

She was almost fairest in the land.

The Queen gave her the (poison) apple

Which was pretty and shiny on the outside (like the almost-fairest-girl)

But corrupted and rotten on the inside (like the Queen was making the girl)

Even though she had a best friend (most handsome in the land)

she listened to the Queen

"Witchery, dear. It's the only way

To be loved

You must be fair

A witch

Work your magic

And be beautiful

For the Games.

Smile for the cameras, dear."

She wanted to be loved

and beautiful

so she worked her magic (whyever did you eat the poison apple, dear?).

...

"I volunteer!"

_Witchery witchery witchcraft_ was the only way

(Witchery over diamonds, little girl)

Her heart, cold as clay

(Beauty over stories, almost-fairest-one)

On that one wicked day

(Fairness over pretend, fairest in the land)

And even though her best friend came in with her

She still had to work her _witchery witchery witchcraft_

And even though her far-too-tight not-just-right clothes_ hurthurthurt_

She ate her (poison) apple and listened to the Queen

"Smile for the cameras, dear."

Because she was in the Games.

...

Screaming

(nobody there for her)

hurting

(nobody cared for her)

dying

(nobody aware of her)

Was she still beautiful?

Was that stung away?

Why did the firegirl just break her fingers, like it wouldn't even hurt?

_Tell me, please, am I still the fairest in the land?_

_Am I still beautiful?_

_Why isn't my best friend here for me? What a Marvel._

No more diamonds

Or stories

Or pretending

Only the (poison) apple

And corruption from the Queen

(can't breathe, clothes too tight, heart not right)

And the fact she never wanted to face all along:

Just because you're the fairest in the land

Doesn't mean anyone will love you.

And the little girl who liked fairy tales was gone.

_Am I still beautiful? Do I still Glimmer?_

* * *

Troll and Queen: one and the same

corrupters

poisoners

_killers_.

Clove and Glimmer: one and the same

Little girls missing pretend stories

And ending their own.


End file.
